It’s that time of year when some egg laying rabbit (Darwin, what sort of natural selection is this?!) comes hopping up to distribute candy to all the little girls and boys in adorable little dresses and Sunday suits. No my baby fever isn’t kicking in or anything. I don’t think little frilly dresses and widdle three piece suits are precious at all.
Oh my God, YES I DO!
So, with this holiday in full swing it turns out I won’t be doing any cooking what so ever. And for once I’m effervescently excited about it. Don’t worry, but lunch time on Sunday that effervescence will have worn off and I’ll dissolve into a twitchy mess peering over the shoulders of my family members in the kitchen as they prepare the Sunday dinner where I can’t help but step in an take the knife away from some untrustworthy-to-chop-anything-properly family member. (No, I’m not talking about you Dad. Promise.)